from sunsets
by burntcookiies
Summary: She stands tall and strong, overlooking the canyon, and she holds it in. Because only the weak cry. Pre TAE. M/F.


**AN: Because I have absolutely no motivation for polaris. Don't own Max Ride. **

**.**

come one, come all

let us

stare out into the horizon

and

dream up a reality

.

::::: from sunsets :::::

.

_one_

.

She is eight, and her world is limited to dog crates, beatings, and white rooms. The bruise on her right arm is rapidly turning a dark purple, head is still spinning from whatever dose of the day the Whitecoats had decided to give her.

It's far from pleasant, close to Hell, but she survives.

She leans against the cold steel bars of the death cage and stares out to another one across from her, where a strawberry blond sits resignedly.

"Is it getting better?" she calls out softly. "Iggy?"

"I'm fine."

A scuffle, a sharp intake of breath. Nothing could slip by with her raptor hearing.

"Don't lie to me."

A sigh.

"Everything's still black."

She sucks in a breath. "They said it'll take three days. Today's only day one," she says, comforting him.

He mutters something, but she doesn't get a chance to reply, as a group of Whitecoats storm in and haul two silent crates away from an aisle down.

She is eight, and her world only knows death, destruction, and pain.

.

She ends up staring at the vacant cage next to her. It's been quite some time since there was someone occupying it, but there is something that tells her someone _will_ come and take the place as a new _experiment_.

The word is foul and bitter in her mouth.

Sometime later, her cage door opens and she is rudely dragged out by white gloved hands.

She tries not to scream as the Whitecoat squeezes her bruise-intentionally, she's sure-and slams the cage door shut.

"Let's see how that serum worked out."

.

The vacant cage has a new inhabitant when she gets back, her mind all fuzzy and world dotted by black spots.

She lies on her back, blinking her eyes, trying to soothe the burn on her legs.

A hand lightly touches her arm, and she flinches, scrambling up and disturbing her sore ribs. She's faced with a boy with impossibly dark eyes and black wings.

"I'm sorry," he starts to say, but she stops him.

"There's nothing to be sorry of," she tells him,"it's not your fault." It's the closest thing she can come up with, because she had little to no experience on making new friends.

A pause.

"I'm Max."

A hesitant smile.

"Fang."

She is eight and her world is black, gray, and white-only it's a little brighter now.

.

"How's everything going?" Iggy asks.

"It's still the same," Fang replies.

Iggy and Fang become fast friends ever since she's introduced them.

"Did anything change at all?"

"Your hair is still blond, skin is still pale, and your eyes are still blue."

A sigh. "One more day."

She tunes them out, nursing her twisted ankle. She's always hated the obstacle course, but ever since they added Erasers into the mix, she's been accumulating more injuries than ever.

"The sky's a deep orange color, the sun a blazing ball of red. It's almost the end of a day, but it could also mean a start for a new one..."

She didn't like sunsets. The colors reminded her of blood and pain.

.

"I can't see! I can't see!"

"Fang, Max, I can't!"

Fang is already up from the cage next to hers, face pressed into bars.

"Iggy?"

"Everything's still dark, Fang, I-I nothing's changed-"

She ignores the strain of her muscles as she turns to Iggy.

"Iggy, calm down-"

But it's too late; the Whitecoats storm in and haul him away.

She doesn't think she has something to call a world anymore.

.

_two_

.

Their rescue is a blessing and a curse. She is free, but she is also tied down. She has wings, but she cannot fly. She is safe, but she is hunted.

Then, Jeb is taken.

In her mind, she has only ascended one layer of Hell, there are seven more to go.

She tucks in Nudge, Angel, and Gazzy, a soft smile on her lips.

Fang greets her with a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen.

"Thanks." They sit at the dining table.

He nods wordlessly, then loops an arm around her.

"Are you okay?"

She can't lie to him.

"No."

"We'll be alright."

She hopes so.

.

A week passes by, then another. She pinches twenty's from the emergency money stash hidden in Jeb's office and heads to the supermarket, Fang in tow. She grabs a cart and hits the canned food aisle, passing by happy families and whatnot.

They smile. She scowls. They worry about what brand of food they should get. She worries if they are going to _have_ enough food. They worry about paying the bills. She worries about if they're going to see tomorrow.

A pool of something bubbles at the pit of her stomach.

Her world is unfair, harsh and cruel.

He places his hand on hers.

"I know, Max. I know."

.

She is tired. The sun is a fiery ball, low in the sky, and she can easily see the horizon line.

Fang and Iggy are still out teaching the younger ones how to bank and steer, but she heads inside under the guise of wanting water.

The canyon is safe and unreachable, but she wonders about how long that will last. She's brave, noble, and strong; she's not one to live in hopes and fantasy.

They would find them.

She grips the glass; the dying rays reflect on the surface, momentarily blinding her.

There's a hand on her shoulder; she doesn't need to turn around to know it's him.

"Stop worrying so much, Max."

She turns on him.

"Stop? Stop worrying? I'm worried because I want to keep us all together and safe!"

"Max-"

"They're going to find us one day, you know it!"

"Max-"

"Why aren't you-"

He kisses her. It tastes of mint and comfort. Hope.

She doesn't pull away.

.

"Why'd you kiss me?"

He looks at her, in the dim light of the hallway.

"You needed a reason."

"For not worrying?"

He shakes his head. "For everything. You need to know that whatever happens, the Flock is going to stick together. If we lose someone, we're going to find them. We've come this far, from dog cages to a house in a canyon."

_You, me, us, the Flock._

She hears it.

Her world is hope, love, and strength.

.

_three_

.

She is fourteen when they take her baby. They take Angel, with her curly blond hair and innocent smiles. The day she'd feared the most has come.

She is greeted by teary flock members and a streak for vengeance.

"There will be time to grieve," she says with a choked throat,"but we're leaving tonight. They know where we are now, and we're gonna get Angel back."

She knows what she must do.

The Flock packs what they can, and she takes the last couple of bills from Jeb's stash.

It is the beginning.

.

They settle down for a last dinner in their sanctuary for the last six years.

She will remember the time she'd almost burned the kitchen down in her first attempt to cook, remember how she'd almost broke the bathroom door down when Nudge was taking too long.

She will remember her world of laughter, joy, and hot chocolate.

.  
She stands on a rocky ledge, wind in her hair, for the last time.

The ball of red is almost gone, almost swallowed up by canyon walls, and she knows. This was no ending; it's a new beginning, no matter how bad of a start it is.

She stands tall and strong, overlooking the canyon, but she holds it in. Because only the weak cry.

"It's okay, you know. To cry."

She shakes her head, stubborn as ever.

He sighs. "Let's go now. Everyone's ready. The day's almost over."

She calls for everyone to take off, and one by one, they do.

"After you."

She is fourteen, and her world is sunsets and family, reassurance and the boy with black wings.

.

from sunsets

.

FIN

.

stay calm and wish

that tomorrow will be kinder

and may you

find what you're looking for

.

.

Wanna drop a review?


End file.
